My Tattered Bonds

There was simply nothing here.

The rushing sound of the river drew me to it and I decided to choose a spot close to the water. There was a little horse-shoe shaped inlet filled with sand and rock and I dropped onto it from the banks, allowing my bare feet to sink into the cool sand.

It was still and peaceful here and I lifted my face to the night breeze. It smelled of damp earth and river water. I tossed my pack onto a nearby rock before I conjured a small bonfire. Curling up next to it, leaning against a boulder, I allowed myself to become mesmerized by the flames. Ever since I had learned that I controlled the Phoenix, fire had become such a fascination. It was almost like I was drawn to it. Unbidden, the words of the prophecy returned to me.

Will she perish in the flames of the Phoenix,

Never to rise to the land of the living once more?

What in the world did that mean? I shook my head, trying to shake the troublesome thoughts. I was supposed to be clearing my mind, not muddling them up with worries. So once again, I stared into the flames.

I startled awake. I had fallen asleep without even knowing it. Somewhere in the distance, I heard an owl hooting into the night. And then there was no other sound but for the rush of the river. My campfire had gone out, so I conjured it again. Soon, orange flame lit the night and warmed my skin.

I was also surprised to find my vision just a little blurred. Since assuming my true goddess identity once again, I had become accustomed to the startling clarity that came with that. Normally, my vision was perfect, my mind was sharp and my body was agile and strong. But right now, it almost felt as though I had had too much to drink.

I staggered to my feet and leaned against the river bank. The prickly grass poked me in the back, but it didn’t matter. I scarcely felt it. The rumble of the river had turned into a vague hum in the back of my consciousness as the inky blackness of night enveloped me.

Help me.

The whisper hissed from the shadows and I spun, clumsily losing my balance and tripping in the wet sand. I righted myself and shoved the hair out of my face with shaking fingers.

Help me.

I felt warm breath graze my ear and I spun again.

The young woman from my dream stood in the moonlight directly to my right. She was beautiful in a fragile, ethereal way. Her skin was pale, her hair dark, her eyes a clear gray. But her face… her face is what grasped my attention and held it. It was delicate and lovely, but the expression was so tortured that it wrenched at my heart. What was causing her so much pain?

“Who are you?” I whispered. She stepped toward me with one slender hand outstretched.

“Save me,” she murmured. “Please.”

“Who are you?” I cried again. She shook her head sadly and stepped from the bank into the river. Wading away from me, she looked over her shoulder one time before she faded into the night.

I was shaken and I slipped to the ground in a crouch as I tried to catch my breath. Who the heck was she? Why was she asking for my help?

“Mama?”

A small, thin voice rose from the darkness, interrupting my frantic thoughts and causing the breath to catch in my throat.

“Raquel,” I answered in a whisper.

“Mama, I don’t like it here.”

My eyes flew to the horizon and I found her small body hunched over. She was scratching at the wet sand with a stick, her hair a dark curtain hiding her face. I scrambled to my feet and rushed toward her, but when I was three steps away, she lifted her sweet little face to me.

“Don’t come here, mama. You won’t like it, either.”

And she was gone. I stepped closer to where she had been and stopped short as I saw the word that she had etched out in the sand.

HELL.

But before I could process that, blood seemed to pour from the sky, raining onto me and coloring the river red. It soaked my clothes and washed away my daughter’s writing. I shook my head in horror and whirled around, trying to see in every direction at once.

“It’s not real,” I whispered. “It’s not.”

As if in contradiction, a trickle of blood ran across my foot, streaming down the wet sand until it dumped into the river.

“It’s not real,” I insisted. I knew I was talking to myself, that regardless of my visions, no one else was here with me. Yet still, the hair on the back of my neck remained raised and the goose bumps still clung to my arms. I blinked my eyes hard and when I re-opened them, the blood was gone. Why had all of my visions of late involved so much blood? I could only imagine that it had some significance, but what?

As I pondered that, a long, thick green speckled snake slithered out of the river and coiled itself in front of me. I quickly stepped back, but before I could scream, two more had joined it, and then three more and then five. Snakes were coming from everywhere…crawling from the river and dropping from the trees.

I could hear the smooth rustle of their bellies against the wet ground as they congregated around me. Every reptilian head was pointed toward me, each slitted eye fixated on me.

The snake in front raised its head and hissed.

“Liessss.”

The rest of them raised their heads in unison, swaying in the breeze as they all hissed.

“Liesssss.”

It seemed to echo in the night, their hissing lisps resounding in my head as I backed away from them and tried to scramble to safety. In my haste, I tripped on a fallen branch and sprawled halfway into the murky water before dragging myself back out and looking over my shoulder.

The snakes were gone.

Breathing raggedly, I propped myself against the bank of the Acheron and crossed my legs in front of me. I happened to notice that my foot was blood-spattered…evidence that my visions had truly happened. I wasn’t crazy. I wasn’t sure if that was a relief or not. I might actually prefer to be crazy.

I leaned my head back against the spindly river grass and closed my eyes.

When I opened them again, it was daylight and I wasn’t alone.

A large owl, probably the one I had heard in the night, was standing a few feet away from me, watching me as I slept with sharp amber eyes. I shook the sleep from my eyes and studied it.

From all appearances, it seemed to be a normal owl. But I knew from the rapt attention it was paying me that it was anything but normal.

“What do you want?” I asked impatiently. I had had it with avian messengers.

It blinked its round eyes at me, but remained silent.

“Well?” I demanded. “What do you want?”

It suddenly shrieked and unfurled its wings, startling me.

And then I was falling. And falling. And falling.